Les O'Neill's description remains familiar 43 years on. He is remembering the sight of Bill Green making history, 106 seconds into Carlisle United's one and only season at the top of English football.

"His legs were like a farmer's thresher, thrashing the wheat," O'Neill says. "His left leg was going, then his right, and I'm thinking, 'for God's sake, Bill, catch it with one of them.'

"I couldn't tell you to this day if he put it in with his left or right. It wouldn't have surprised me if it was his knee or his shin. But never mind. I cannot talk, because mine that day was a fluke as well."

For the record, Green used his left foot to steer the ball into Chelsea's net. Jimmy Glass aside, the defender's close-range prod on August 17, 1974 is surely United's most renowned goal.

The moment - that yellow-shirted day at the pinnacle - returned poignantly to mind with news of Green's passing on Monday. Of the great Carlisle team who raided Stamford Bridge, the captain is the third to die.

After Allan Ross, in 1999, and Chris Balderstone, in 2000, Green's old team-mates are mourning another friend. Too young, at 66. "I've spoken to Pauline [Green's wife] and also left her some messages," says John Gorman. "I've said whenever she needs to talk to me, I'll be there for her, because I know what it's like to lose somebody." Gorman's beloved wife, Myra, died in 2006.

"It's so sad. They were going to be renewing their vows soon."

Happy memories hold hands with this grief. Gorman thinks of another time against footballing giants: an FA Cup tie at Anfield, a few months before Carlisle gained their precious promotion.

Midway through the second half, United's left-back leapt for the ball with Kevin Keegan and felt a blow to his head. The resulting gash forced him off the field and down the tunnel for treatment. This left Carlisle to handle Keegan, John Toshack and Liverpool's other aristocrats with 10 men until Gorman came bravely back on.

They secured a bold 0-0 draw and, on the coach home, Gorman's true assailant was revealed. "It was Bill," he says. "I couldn't jump like him, and so he had also come in for the challenge. It was his teeth that had gone into the back of my head."

Gorman needed stitches, while a dentist's appointment awaited Carlisle's skipper. "He was a good footballer as well," adds Gorman, in case a stereotype risks forming. "He wasn't just a stopper. He had a bit of both. But he was great in the air. He was awesome."

In these early, raw days O'Neill is also caught between sadness and reminiscence. The two men had Newcastle roots - "we grew up three miles apart...you could throw your hat over us"- and remained close long after United's heyday had faded.

"We spoke every week, at least once or twice," O'Neill says. "We were only just arranging for him to come up with Pauline, to stay for a few days. We were going to go out in Carlisle. He loved it here."

Carlisle also loved Green, demonstrated by the minute's applause heard on Tuesday night. His status in this city, at its club, is abiding, emphasised by how quickly he rose.

After signing from Hartlepool in the summer of 1973, he was appointed captain in September, aged 22. The vacancy had resulted from a suspension imposed on Balderstone, who had not reported back for the start of pre-season due to his Leicestershire cricket commitments.

"He came to us quite raw," O'Neill says, "but he was a leader, even at that age. Taking responsibility, bollocking players older than him - it didn't faze him. But when that 90 minutes finished, it was over, done with.

"He was tough, rough and if someone wanted a battle with him, he loved it. But off the pitch he was a gentleman."

It is easy for Gorman, too, to find the right description. "He was a true captain, because he was always encouraging you," he adds. "And yes - a gentleman. Jolly Green Giant, that's what we used to call him."

Green was always modest about his part in Carlisle's rise, insisting he had only helped finish a job others had long started. Yet there is no disguising the fact that his first season culminated in their greatest achievement. "Bill was suspended the day we played Villa [in 1974]," Gorman remembers. "When we beat them, he ran onto the pitch, lifted me in the air, and said, 'We've got promoted, we've got promoted!...'

"But we hadn't. We still had to wait a few days for Orient to play Villa before it was certain. For a moment he'd forgotten about that."

These tales conjure United's golden age. They remind supporters of a certain vintage of the "long-striding Green", who immediately displayed "calmness and presence of mind", according to Ross Brewster's reporting in these pages. They recall Green's First Division partnership at centre-half with the outstanding Bobby Parker - and memories of a player who, said manager Alan Ashman, was a "very fast learner" with a wise positional brain.

O'Neill did not, then, foresee Green's post-retirement future but, as scouts, they later found a new fellowship, toughened by old bonds. "There were a couple of times in my scouting career when I was made redundant, and the first person on the phone was Bill," O'Neill says. "He got me doing a bit of work for him until I got fixed up with another job."

As chief scout at several clubs, often with a global remit, Green drew new respect. One of his recommendations for Wigan was a backstreet boy from Ecuador: Antonio Valencia. Later, working for Southampton, he confided an admiration for a Celtic centre-half.

"He'd watched this lad two or three times and rang us on the way back from Scotland," O'Neill says. "He said, 'Cor, this lad's gonna be a player...'

"That was [Virgil] van Dijk. A lot of the signings on his CV...you'd be amazed how well they've done."

Southampton benefited from Green's presence for his final six years. Their own tributes were heartfelt, describing him a "legend" who always regarded scouting successes as a team game rather than a matter for personal glory. Another minute's applause, at their Carabao Cup game with Wolves, acknowledged his meaning at the Premier League club.

At Carlisle, though, his name will always refer to the time when a community's most vivid football dreams opened up. O'Neill, 73, says it is only since he moved back to the area, five years ago, that he has truly appreciated what 1974 meant to the people.

"It's amazing how many still come up to me and say what they were doing when we got promotion," he says. "Running down the street, doing stupid things...

"It was lovely to be part of that, and Bill felt the same way. He was chuffed he was captain then. He always said this: they were the best years of his footballing life."